But I’d stick it out. I had to. Though one thing was for sure, walking the straight and narrow was much harder than I ever thought it would be.

In my efforts to be Maxx Demelo, Recovering Addict, there was one thing I still hadn’t done: go downtown to make an intake appointment for my outpatient counseling. I knew that I needed to. I had a meeting with my probation officer next week and it was important I show that I was continuing with treatment.

He had known I was in rehab but not that I’d almost died on a bathroom floor from a drug overdose. If he had been privy to that knowledge, I wouldn’t be sitting here on the outside. I’d be sitting in a jail cell feeling pretty damn sorry for myself.

It was Saturday morning and I woke up with four hours to kill before I had to be out at the horse stables. Kenny Wyatt, who ran the place, hadn’t been exactly impressed with my lack of general horse knowledge when I had called him up and asked him about the job. Luckily the horrible pay and even worse duties didn’t make “stable hand” very popular for those seeking employment. Kenny had hired me on the spot, though he was less than pleased about it.

There was nothing less attractive than coming home smelling like you had spent the day rolling around in manure. Feeling restless and unwilling to sit around my apartment chewing on my nails, I grabbed my car keys and headed out, no real destination in mind.

It was a sunny day and the streets were busy. My car petered along, clunking noisily. I looked in my rearview mirror and saw black smoke billowing out from the back.

I wished I had somewhere to go. I felt displaced and isolated. The only real connections I had ever had were with people who now wanted nothing to do with me. I picked up my phone but then dropped it again, knowing that I had no one to call. I felt a sharp pain in my chest that was a lot like loneliness. A memory resurfaced unbidden.

“I hate living here, Maxx.” Landon’s voice was small and timid. We had only been living with our uncle David for a few weeks, but I could already tell it was not going to be a good situation. Two hours after dropping us off at his house, he had left, with no indication of where he was going.

He had been gone for three days.

When he came back, he reeked of stale booze and looked as though he hadn’t showered in a month. He hadn’t acknowledged either of us and had instead gone to his room, where he proceeded to sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

This was our life now. But at least I had Landon. And he had me.

He was the only thing in my stupid, messed-up life that made me feel good. Even if the responsibility of taking care of him felt like a noose around my neck sometimes.

I threw my arm around Landon’s shoulders. “Yeah, me, too, buddy, but we’ve got each other. We’ll be all right,” I promised, meaning it.

Landon was small for his age and barely came up to my shoulder. He was a clingy kid who followed me around everywhere. A normal teenage brother would have been annoyed by his tagalong brother. But we weren’t normal.

“Okay, Maxx,” Landon replied.

I knew he missed our dad . Even though he hadn’t been the best parent at the end, he was still the only parent Landon had ever known. He didn’t remember Mom. And I hated that.

Now I was the only parental figure that he had.

“You wanna learn how to check the oil in a car?” I asked, wanting to distract the poor kid from our shitty life.

Landon’s face brightened considerably. “Yeah!” he enthused, eager to spend time with his big brother.

“Come on, then, let’s go out in the garage. Dad’s old Mustang is out there.”

Just as I was about to get up, Landon wrapped his skinny arms around me and squeezed. “You’re the best brother ever, Maxx,” he said, his voice muffled as he pressed himself into my chest. I stiffened for a moment but I didn’t pull away.

I hugged him back, not caring that I looked like a total pussy for embracing my brother.

He needed the affection.

I did , too.

I shook my head, clearing my mind of the memory.

I missed Landon. I missed the relationship we used to have. I needed him back in my life.

So I turned down a side street and started to pass familiar houses. I pulled up in front of the one-level brick house where I had spent my bleak formative years, and killed the engine.

I hadn’t called Landon since leaving rehab, knowing that what I had to say was better said in person. Though I was terrified that the kid who I had practically raised wouldn’t want anything to do with me.

I was sweating bullets, which wasn’t like me at all. Well, it wasn’t like the old me, anyway. This new me seemed to get freaked out over everything.

I walked up on the porch and put my hand on the doorknob and then thought better of it. Ringing the doorbell, I stood back and waited.

Landon appeared after only a few seconds and looked irritated at seeing me standing there.

“You’re out, I guess,” he said coldly, crossing his arms over his chest like the teenager he was.

I shoved my hands into my pockets and shrugged. “Yeah, I am.”

“I thought you’d call,” my brother said bitterly.

“I would have if I thought you would have answered,” I threw back.

Landon rolled his eyes.

“So are we going to have this conversation out here or can I come inside?” I asked.

“David’ll probably be back soon, so maybe another time.” Landon started to close the door and I stuck my foot out, wedging it in the jamb.

“Look, Landon, I know you’re pissed at me, but there are things I need to say, that you need to hear. I fucked up, buddy. Big-time. Give me a chance to make it right.”

I saw Landon waver and he dropped his eyes. “Okay. But not for long. I’ve got stuff to do.”

I wanted to laugh at his petulance, but I knew that would be a bad move, given the state of our relationship.

“Not a problem.” I walked into my uncle’s house and for the first time I didn’t feel angry and resentful toward the man who had begrudgingly taken us in after our dad’s death. What was the point in wasting the energy to hate him? It hurt me more than it hurt him. And I couldn’t focus on that sort of bullshit. Not now when I was trying to make the people I cared about see how much I had changed.

And holding on to bad blood kept me stuck. And stuck was not something I wanted to be.

“Can I get something to drink?” I asked, noting how unchanged everything was. The same green-and-tan sofa that had been there for the last decade was pushed against the wall. The stained rug that had been my grandparents’ laid haphazardly on the floor.

“Yeah, you know where everything is,” Landon said, sitting down on the couch and turning up the volume on the television. He wasn’t going to make things easy, that’s for sure.

I went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator, surprised to see that it was full of food. I checked the cabinets and found that they, too, were full. I grabbed a glass and filled it with water from the tap and returned to the living room.

“You doing the grocery shopping now?” I asked.

Landon didn’t bother to look at me as he answered, his eyes still trained on the cartoon that played on the screen. “Nah. David’s been home a lot more. He got a job at the county office building doing maintenance.”

“Are you shitting me? Is he on something?” I asked, hardly able to believe that David had turned over a new leaf. Though if I was capable of change, why not my dickhead uncle?

“No, I think that’s your thing, not his,” Landon said blandly.

“Okay, I deserved that,” I stated.

Landon flipped the channel, still not looking at me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t take your calls while you were gone,” Landon said gruffly, as though the apology was cutting into his throat.